


All In a Day's Work

by FreshBrains



Series: Femslash Yuletide [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Baking, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash Yuletide, Humor, Living Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2744405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hit Natasha sometimes, the ways they were the same—what was the difference, really, between baking a cake and shooting a gun if you had an end goal in mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In a Day's Work

**Author's Note:**

> For the Femslash Yuletide Day #9 prompt: Holiday food.

“This is quite the scene to come home to,” Natasha said, a small smile on her lips as she leaned against the door frame.  Flour covered every surface of the small apartment kitchen and cooling racks full of cookies and pies weighed down the table.  The smell of burnt sugar and butter filled the space with warmth.

Darcy glanced up, shaking a strand of hair out of her face.  “Hey, you’re home!  Wow, it only took you a few hours to fight that giant lizard thing, good for you.”  She turned off the small kitchen TV—once Natasha was home, she always turned off the news.  It was all she needed to know.

Natasha snorted, loosening her gun belt and sliding into a kitchen chair.  “All in a day’s work.”  She had a bruise the size of her fist on her thigh and two decent-sized gashes patched up with butterfly bandages on her cheek, but she knew Darcy wouldn’t pry—that was part of their relationship.  Natasha didn’t ask questions when Darcy disappeared with Foster and Selvig for weeks at a time, and Darcy didn’t ask about the battle wounds.  “I didn’t know you were quite the baker.”

Darcy shot her a sneer and slid around the counter.  She dropped easily into Natasha’s lap, adjusting herself quickly when Natasha winced at her bruise.  “For once, I’m not drowning in my thesis or Jane’s theories or Asgardian visitors who want to make me their wife-in-arms.”

“Damn it, Sif,” Natasha muttered. 

Darcy ignored her, smoothing Natasha’s dusty, sweaty hair out of her face.  “Jane’s mom dropped off a bunch of her holiday cookbooks at Jane’s place.  I don’t think she knows how much Jane hates cooking.  And kitchens.  And food, during lab hours.”

Natasha let one hand wander to Darcy’s hip and one to the trays of goods, plucking a jam thumbprint off the parchment paper.  “So you’ve taken up responsibility as holiday chef?”

“It’s finally something I can beat you people at,” Darcy said.  Her voice was light and teasing and little heat could be found from a statement coming from a woman with flour smudged on her cheek, but Natasha still frowned.

“It’s never a competition.  I’m glad you’re not a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.  Not officially, I mean.”  The savory, buttery taste of the cookie mixed with the tartness of raspberry jam softened Natasha, making her hold Darcy closer.  “Leave the monsters and villains to us.”

“I know,” Darcy said with a smile, pecking Natasha on the lips.  She tasted like peppermint.  “And you can leave the role of inter-dimensional time travel guinea pig to me.”

“So that’s what Foster is working on,” Natasha mused, and they both shared a small laugh.  Natasha buried her face in Darcy’s collarbone, the softness of Darcy’s breasts soothing away the aches and pains of another day as an Avenger.  “What’s the peppermint from?”

“Ooh, you’ll love this,” Darcy said, standing and rushing to the fridge.  “Look at this glorious monstrosity.”  She proudly held up a layered cake with one wedge cut out, revealing four tiers of yellow cake and rose-pink frosting.  Crushed red and white peppermint candies dotted the frosting on top. 

Natasha raised an eyebrow.  “That is one _pink_ cake.”

“You bet it is,” Darcy said cheerfully.  “The book calls it a White Christmas Peppermint Layer Cake.”  She leaned over the counter, taking another glance at the open cookbook.  “Wow, this was written before either of us were born, and I know you’re hella older than you look.”  In fact, she knew as much about Natasha’s history as Natasha did.  There wasn’t room for secrets with them.  And Darcy was the only person Natasha let tease her about it.

“Cut me off a slice, brat,” Natasha said with a sigh.  She’d make a pot of coffee and they’d sink into bed together, freshly showered from sugar and flour and dirt and blood, and eat Darcy’s pink cake until they passed out, tangled up in each other’s arms.  It was the perfect post-battle plan.

Too bad the cake tasted like toothpaste. 

“Good?” Darcy’s eyes were bright.  She never sought approval, not from Natasha or anyone else, but Natasha could tell she was proud.  It hit Natasha sometimes, the ways they were the same—what was the difference, really, between baking a cake and shooting a gun if you had an end goal in mind?  You needed precision, practice.  Natasha preferred to see it that way.  It was easiest.

“Amazing,” Natasha said, teeth gritty from the frosting, and took another bite.

*

“Darcy made a cake,” Natasha said the next day as she walked into the common area of Stark Tower an hour before their briefing.  She set the foil-wrapped package on the counter and turned to look at Hill, Stark, Cap, and Bruce, the only ones who had shown up yet.  “It will be gone by this afternoon.  Clear?”

The men nodded solemnly, not willing to argue Natasha’s point, and Hill raised an eyebrow.  “What kind?”

“Does it matter?” Natasha raised an eyebrow back, even though she knew Hill saw right through her.

Hill shrugged, and while the men wandered over to the package to take a closer look, she mouthed _so whipped._

Natasha shrugged back and mouthed _you bet_.


End file.
